


Taking Our Time

by bittycanbake (hit_the_books)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Issues, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Las Vegas Aces, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Polyamory, Shitty Knight is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Suzanne is Understanding, envy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 13:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/bittycanbake
Summary: When Jack gets back together with Kent and signs with the Las Vegas Aces, Eric's whole world crumbles around him. He certainly doesn't expect Jack and Kent to be the ones who rebuild it.





	Taking Our Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giraffeter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffeter/gifts).



> Oh my gosh! Having finished a draft of this Christmas Day, I am so happy to finally be posting this story for giraffeter. And I really hope you enjoy it, I tried my best to stick to your prompt and I think it hits what you were looking for.
> 
> Thanks to [treefrogie84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84) for beta reading this story for me so quickly. It is much appreciated. Thank you to [Unforth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth) for helping me get together an idea for this story.
> 
> For everyone else: this is my longest CP fic to date, so I hope you all enjoy it too.

“Well, you know, something always goes wrong during these parties.”

Jack’s words echoed around Eric’s head again as he sat on the floor beside his bed, Señor Bun clutched close to his chest. He’d heard too much, seen more than he wanted to. Smelled more than should have been possible. Every fucking sense, bar touch, had been overloaded like he’d been struck by lightning and almost died.

Instead he sat on his bedroom floor. Trying to forget. But it wasn’t working, because how do you forget catching a glimpse of the guy you’ve been crushing on for too damn long getting blown by the guy you thought was his mortal enemy?

No amount of booze was going to drive that away. Parse kneeling on Jack’s bedroom floor, soliciting promises, followed by a healthy stream of feedback.

Eric sniffed and finally climbed up off of the floor and into his bed. He didn’t want to leave and find something alcoholic to drink. No way did he want to be seen, because anyone looking at him would see he was burned out, a shell. Just one touch and he’d crumble to dust on the floor.

Pulling his comforter up and over his shoulders, Eric cocooned himself and snuggled Señor Bun. Eric’s cheeks were stiff from the dried salt of his tears, but he didn’t want to go and wash his face. Didn’t care that he’d wake up with his eyes crusted together in the morning.

Just as sleep was finally starting to find him, Eric remembered that people would expect him to cook breakfast for them in the morning. Be up all bright eyed and happy, making the Haus smell good after too many bodies had been crammed into it. If he didn’t make breakfast, people would know something was wrong. He sighed and dug further under his bed covers.

 _I better make breakfast_ , Eric concluded as sleep finally dragged him down into real darkness, the noises of the Kegster below forgotten.

***

The savory aroma of cheese, bacon and pastry suffused the Haus. Eric picked at some apple slices as he waited for the breakfast quiches to finish baking. His early bedtime had meant no hangover and he was actually hungry, but he couldn’t wait for the quiche, so an apple it was. He picked up a slice and bit into it, chewing slowly and methodically.

Swallowing, Eric listened for any sign of life in the Haus. A floorboard creaked above him and then someone was on the stairs, tiptoeing their way down. Eric looked up from his apple in time to see Kent Parson doing a walk of shame.

His blond hair was mussed up, no longer perfectly smoothed back and his snapback was at an awkward tilt. The blue-white checked shirt he’d worn the day before was rumpled and the buttons were done up wrong. Kent’s blue-gray eyes met Eric’s and he gave him a warm smile. He walked into the kitchen like he owned the place and leaned on the counter where Eric was perched, sat on a stool, knees stuck out.

“Um, something smells good,” Kent rumbled.

All thoughts of hate and loathing drained out of Eric, becoming a pool on the floor. His breath caught in his chest. _So maybe Kent Parson is stunning_.

“Quiche,” Eric said simply. He was struggling to find enough air to function fully.

“Don’t suppose it’s going to be ready in the next two minutes?” Kent asked, voice warm.

 _Dammit, Bittle. Get. It. Together. This asshole has done things with the biggest crush you have ever had._ “No.”

“Shame,” Kent sighed. He gave Eric a smile, a real smile, and leaned in just a little closer than necessary. “I better get going. Practice and all that. Nice meeting you…?”

“Eric.”

“It was nice meeting you, Eric.” Kent turned around and marched off heading for the front door.

Eric listened as the door opened and closed. He stayed stuck to the stool, unable to will his body to do anything as his brain tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

_Fact: Kent Parson and Jack Zimmerman definitely had sex last night. Fact: Kent Parson just flirted with me. Fact: Kent Parson is actually good looking. Conclusion: Oh gawd—what is happening?!_

Another set of feet came down the stairs and Eric looked to the kitchen door to be greeted by Shitty, dressed only in a pair of boxers. He stopped just inside the kitchen doorway and stretched, arms above his head, yawning and showing way more treasure trail than Eric wanted to see outside of a hockey changing room.

“M-morning,” Shitty greeted. “Mmm, you making some of your breakfast quiches?” His arms flopped down at his sides.

“Y-yes. Yes I am. Wanna get some coffee on?” Eric asked, bustling over to the oven to make sure everything looked okay.

“Sure thing, amigo.” Shitty moved around as Eric busied himself with nothing.

Eric tried to pretend to be busy, getting plates and cutlery together as the rest of the Haus started to come to life. 

“You okay, Bits?” Shitty asked, coming in and leaning against the counter nearest Eric, arms crossed over his chest so Eric thankfully didn’t have to make eye contact with Shitty’s nipples.

Sighing, Eric looked away and at the floor. “I, uh...” _It’s impossible to keep things from Shitty when he knows something is up…you need to tell him something, Eric. Go on, he won’t judge you. You know that_. “I heard Jack and Kent last night.”

Silence. Eric looked up at Shitty’s face. The other man’s skin had gone pale, like he had seen a ghost, his chest hardly moving as he breathed.

Through gritted teeth, Shitty finally said, “Did you now?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Shitty let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. “Dammit, I thought Jack had kicked his Parse habit. Dude ain’t no good for him.”

Eric’s brows creased. “Ransom and Holster said last night that Jack and Kent used to be a thing.”

“And I’d kinda hoped for Jack’s sake that it would have stayed back in the past. Locked up to never be opened again by man or beast. But here we are. I too heard things I shouldn’t have heard last night, but I wanted to be mistaken.” Shitty sniffed indignantly. “I can’t believe he’s gone back to Parse.”

 _Me neither_.

***

The months dragged by for Eric. His game suffered and so Jack made him take more checking practice, and that just turned into more emotional torture for Eric. The closer they got to warmer weather, the closer Eric ws to losing Jack forever.

Whenever he walked past Jack’s room, he heard Jack and Parse talking over Skype. He saw Jack smiling at his cell every other time he saw the guy. Caught Jack mentioning Kent more and more as he talked with his teammates.

Jack hadn’t said who he was going to yet, which team had managed to court him, but Eric knew. He felt it in his bones whenever Kent was name dropped by Jack. And despite this, Eric didn’t allow himself to slide further than his emotions would allow. It was Jack’s last season with Samwell—so Eric played his best as he adjusted to the idea of a life where Jack lived on the other side of the country.

A life where he won’t see Jack every day. He had already needed to consider this a possibility—after all, even if Jack went with the Falconers over the Aces, he wouldn’t be near Samwell any more. Though the Falconers’ base in Providence was a far more palatable distance than Las Vegas for the Aces.

But when they lose in the Frozen Four, in Jack’s last chance to bring the cup back to Samwell, Eric knew that it hit his captain, his friend, his crush—hard. Eric took off his armor and pads, and headed out, looking for Jack.

The crowds from the game were gone. Off celebrating or commiserating. Eric found the emptiness of the arena suffocating. Without the crowds, it was just a vast cage waiting to hold onto them forever. He needed to find Jack so he could make sure Jack didn’t stay trapped there. He might have Kent back in his life, but Eric accepted that Jack didn’t deserve to face the night alone.

 _Oh, sweet boy_ , Eric thought as he found Jack hunched over and alone in a loading bay. The pallets he was sat on looked uncomfortable. Eric stepped towards Jack, footsteps light, but somehow Jack still heard him. He looked up at Eric, eyes watery, cheeks wet from tears.

Eric had never seen Jack cry before.

Eric climbed up on the pallets beside Jack , and he wrapped his arms around him. It was what Jack needed and Eric didn’t want Jack to be left alone. 

Jack crying made Eric’s stomach curl in a way losing didn’t. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing _to_ say. It had been Jack’s final game for Samwell. There were no more games to play, to try and do better and get further. They were out and there was no going back for Jack. No do overs.

Eric held Jack as long as he could. The distant voice of Shitty calling finally drew the two of them back to the present.

“Come on,” Eric whispered. He stood and offered his hand to Jack.

Jack nodded and clasped Eric’s hand, allowing himself to be led back to the locker room.

***

Graduation and kissing the ice at Faber went by in a blur for Eric. Jack found Eric after a mimosa or two has found Eric.

“The Aces are offering me the best start to my career,” Jack said as he shifted on his feet. He looked tired, but there was an excitement in his eyes that had been growing for weeks.

Eric nodded as he tried to hold back the tears that wanted to fall freely. He was losing Jack. He was losing Shitty.

Sure he was happy for them on an intellectual level, but he was mostly sad. “Of course they were,” Eric replied. “You have to do what’s best for you… I get that.” Eric gave Jack a smile he didn’t feel.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down nervously at his hands before looking back to Eric. “You should come out and visit sometime. I’ll pay for your flights.”

This was the last thing that Eric had expected to hear. He kept his face neutral. “If you’re sure?”

“We’d love to see you.”

And there was that “we,” _so Kent wants me to head out too, huh?_ “I’ve got a lot on my plate when I head back home, but I’ll come over sometime.”

Jack smiled, eyes going soft. “Of course.”

Without warning, Jack stepped forward and pulled Eric into a hug. If it it had been some other universe, Eric was pretty sure that Jack would have been kissing him. But this wasn’t that universe.

***

“I’m sorry, is that a LAX bro?!!!” Ransom indignantly cried, looking at something on Holster’s phone.

Eric’s cheeks were already blushing, because he was pretty sure that he knew what the two of them were looking at as he rolled out pastry for a pie crust. He looked up and saw both captains looking at him like he’d grown two heads. 

Eric sighed. “Nothing happened, he just helped me back to the Haus the other night.” Eric started laying the pie crust into the pie dish he’d already prepared. 

“And why did you need help in the first place?” Ransom persisted, an accusing finger directed at Eric.

Eric ignored Ransom’s question and continued to work on his pie. His third year of college was proving to be a very different beast to the previous two. He was making new friends all over. _And it’s about time someone reached out an olive branch to the chads anyway_ , Eric thought.

“Is everything okay?” Holster asked, voice closer than Eric had been expecting.

Looking away from the apple pie filling he’d been mixing a little more cinnamon into, Eric took in the expression on Holster’s face. He was concerned, like a big brother might be for their littler, younger brother. Or a captain for one of his players.

Eric shrugged and started spooning apple into the pie dish. “Yeah. I just went out the other night, guys. No biggie.”

There was no missing the concerned looks Ransom and Holster exchanged with each other, but Eric was tired of their good cop/bad cop routine. He just wanted to get his pie in the oven and find somewhere to curl up while it baked.

The fact that Eric had gone for a night out with the Lacrosse team after having a Skype conversation with Jack and Kent was neither here nor there. It was pure coincidence. There was no connection to Eric drinking excessively that night and the happy couple he’d seen on his laptop screen.

No connection at all.

***

“So, how’s your week going?” Shitty asked. He was topless— _nothing new there—_ and wore a concerned look that suggested Ransom and Holster had been talking with him.

A part of Eric wished they weren’t having a video Skype conversation, but at the same time it was good to see Shitty’s face. Seeing someone who cared about him meant a lot and Eric hadn’t realized that until he’d gotten a call notification part way through working on an essay for once— _and what the hell is with that, huh? Working on stuff so you won’t be panicking. You got a reputation to maintain_.

“Oh, just sort of normal. I suppose. Got a game Friday. Practice has been going well. Uh… almost done with this essay-”

Shitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Almost done with an essay?! Wow, uh, good going, Bits.”

Truth was, Eric didn’t want one failed crush to ruin his chances of success at a college degree. He had come to Samwell so that he could make something of his life. After two years, he should be studying, getting work in on time, and doing well at practice. 

“Thanks.”

“I, um, heard you’d been, ahem, hanging with some of the LAX bros...” Shitty looked like he was trying not to swear as he spoke.

“Heard? Well, not that it’s anyone’s business, but yes. They’re not all that bad.” _Especially when they have free booze_.

Shitty frowned, but didn’t say anything more about Eric’s social activities. Instead they talked about Shitty’s studies at Harvard and how his head was full of things he was sure he’d forget the moment he didn’t need to walk onto a campus any more.

Eric provided some intel on what Lardo might like for Christmas and Shitty wrote the ideas down studiously. There’d definitely been talk from Lardo about her acrylic paint supplies getting low. Some brushes getting trashed. And one of her favorite craft knives going missing.

Feigning a desire to get back to his essay, Eric said goodbye to Shitty and ended the call. He looked to the names of people from his contacts online and saw both Jack and Kent were signed into their accounts, and available, but Eric logged out of Skype and went back to writing.

***

Summer break was looking to be a lot of nothing, if Eric was being perfectly honest with himself. He was back in Georgia, pretty bored even though in previous summers he was excited to at least be hanging with his momma. But this year it just felt like an unnecessary pause in the road to finishing college and getting his degree.

His days revolved around baking new things with his momma; getting ahead of his reading for the new semester; walking neighbors’ dogs for a bit of extra cash and keeping his cardio in check, and recording vlogs about all of this. It was repetitive and predictable—and driving Eric a little mad each day.

He’d just finished recording a vlog when a call started coming in over Skype. It was Jack. Eric thought for a moment about not answering, but then a call from Jack was the most interesting thing that had happened to Eric in two days. He hit answer.

“Hey,” Eric greeted.

“Hi, Bitty,” Jack shot back. He had shades on and it looked very sunny. Eric thought he could distantly hear water splashing. _He’s calling me from beside a pool!_

“Uh, everything okay?” Eric rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“Great! We were wondering what your plans for the Fourth of July were?” Jack smiled.

Eric could feel his chest ache at the sight of Jack seeming so at ease and happy. He could see where this conversation was going, Jack was about to invite him over for the holiday. _Oh gawd_.

“Currently nothing more than watching the neighborhood fireworks and attending my parents’ annual barbecue.” Eric shrugged. “Nothing big.”

“Then-”

Kent was suddenly in front of Jack, looking at Eric, wet hair plastered to his head. “Why don’t you come to Las Vegas and spend the Fourth with us?!” He wore an excited grin and Eric found himself smiling in return.

“I don’t think I can-”

“We’ll pay for your flights of course,” Jack called over Kent’s shoulder.

In the space left for his answer, Eric found himself trying to think of good reasons about why he couldn’t go. Envy and regret were at the top of the list, but that wasn’t what you told your old crush and his boyfriend while they were half naked and talking to you over Skype.

“That sounds fantastic.” Eric let out a quiet sigh and tried hard not to think about what he was getting himself into.

***

Georgia had been hot and humid. Las Vegas was _hot_ and not at all humid. The second Jack and Kent dragged him out of arrivals and out toward the parking lot they’d left Kent’s huge pickup truck, Eric felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. He thought he’d been prepared for the heat, because, you know, Georgia born and raised. But he had been wrong. So wrong.

Eric thought wearing his favorite pink tank and a pair of blue Bermuda shorts, plus a pair of flip-flops, and his big aviators would have prepared him for the Vegas heat. Nope.

“So we were thinking that we could go get gelato at this place that Jack and I found last week. It is the best.” Kent opened up the pickup truck and easily lifted Eric’s bag and case into the back cabin, then closed the door. Eric started to panic about where he was expected to sit, but as Jack opened the front passenger door, he gestured for Eric to scoot up into the middle.

“And then after gelato, we thought maybe we could head to the house. Give you a chance to relax. Maybe watch a film. If you’re tired, we can eat in tonight, but otherwise we could head out,” Jack supplied, climbing in up after Eric.

Kent sat up in the driver’s seat and started the engine, waiting for everyone to get their belts on. Eric was seated and belted between Kent and Jack. Two men, if this close proximity was anything to go by, Eric was actually kinda attracted to. The warmth he’d felt that fateful night Kent had slept over at the Haus over a year ago, was coming back. And the press of the two men’s thighs was not helping Eric to remain completely composed. At least the pickup’s air-con was working.

The gelato place was fifteen minutes away, and Eric didn’t say much more as Kent and Jack talked over him, discussing plans for the next day. The decision had been made that they would be heading over to the party that Jeff “Swoops” Troy would be hosting with a bunch of the other Aces players and their other halves and children.

What the gelato place had, other than delicious Italian ice cream, was again working air-con. The combination of rich strawberry and pistachio gelatos had Eric forgetting himself and his surroundings for a moment.

“Woah there, Bits, it’s just gelato,” Kent teased.

Eric blushed, realizing he may have made a few noises. Moaned. Embarrassed himself in the presence of a dozen people. He ducked his head. “It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Jack said. Eric looked up at Jack from under his eyelashes and noted that Jack was blushing. Whether from secondhand embarrassment or something else—Eric wasn’t sure.

When they left the gelato place, Jack placed a hand on the small of Eric’s back to help steer him towards to the pickup. And Eric was pretty sure he would die there and then. Just burst into flames and turn to ash.

***

“You can pass the chips,” Eric stated, body pinned by Kent’s cat. Kit Purrson had made a claim on Eric. There was no two ways about it. The cat, a fluffy Maine Coon, was huge and decided Eric was the best human pillow ever™.

“But-” Jack stopped and looked between Eric’s face, cat covered lap, and the chips on the coffee table. “Right.”

Jack leaned forward and grabbed the red bowl of chips, sitting back on the center of the couch. Kent’s place, which Jack spent most of his time in—he had a small apartment for appearances, but really he lived at Kent’s—was big, clean and all smooth surfaces. It had a post-modern edge to it Eric wasn’t sure how he felt about. Like the angular L-shaped couch they were on, its back low and inviting people to put their arms along it.

“Kit, I feel so betrayed,” Kent said, arm flung over his eyes. “How could you love another more than me?”

Kit shifted and looked soulfully over at Kent and then to Eric, and then turned around further, plopping her head on Eric’s stomach. She purred and Eric started to stroke her head with his left hand.

“Sorry Kent, but Kit might have to come home with me. Anyway, we could probably do with a cat in the Haus. Lord knows what’s really down in the basement.” Eric reached out for a chip with his free hand.

 _Zombieland_ was playing in the background, which he and Jack had definitely seen a few times back at Samwell, but Kent had never seen it. There was a lot of pop culture that Kent wasn’t up-to-date on, especially if it was something that had released during the playoffs. But Jack said it was fine, because he wasn’t as pop cultured up as he could be, so they could always find something to watch.

Jack put his arms up on the back of the couch, touching Eric’s neck and Kent’s. The move classic and more-than-friendly in a way that was increasingly becoming Jack and Kent’s thing with Eric. He enjoyed the attention, the little friendly touches, and he’d been asked as they’d left the gelato place if the touches were okay. Eric had been embarrassingly quick to say yes. It reminded him of his time around Jack before Kent had come back into his life, but also made him wonder why Kent was doing the same thing.

The two of them had been calling and messaging Eric more and more as the year had progressed, and Eric really didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed to be more than just keeping a friendship going, but Eric just couldn’t put his finger exactly on what Jack and Kent were trying to do.

***

“Hey, Bittle, catch!” Jeff called, slinging a football at Eric.

With practiced ease, because of course growing up with Coach meant he had a fine arm, Eric jumped up in the air and caught the football. It’s brown skin stung his hands and inner arms a little as it shot into them. Landing on the ground, poise perfect, Eric looked up to find a bunch of ice hockey players (and their partners) staring at him like he’d grown two heads and some antenna.

“What?” Eric looked around, confused. After a minute, a couple of people laughed, clapped and they went back to drinking and eating.

Kent walked over and hefted the ball from Eric. “And you play hockey,” he said in disbelief.

Jack came by with a beer for Eric and a smile on his face. “Remind me why you don’t play football again?” he asked with a wink.

Eric groaned, took his beer and shook his head. “Let’s just forget that I have these skills and go and find the buffalo wings that Troy has made for today.”

“And have some of the pecan pie you baked,” Jack added.

Eric tried not to think about how Jack continued to pronounce “pecan” all wrong. “Exactly, wings and pie.”

Kent tossed the football to another Aces team member. “Pie and wings—sounds good.”

***

“So… are you dating anyone?” Suzanne asked.

Eric looked up from the pie crust he had just laid out into a dish and tried to get a read on his momma. There had been no gender mentioned, but the look she was giving him, made Eric ponder if he could be honest about himself for once.

The start of his fourth year at Samwell had seen no one match up to what Eric needed in a boyfriend. Sure there were plenty of hot queer guys at Samwell, and occasionally he needed help from Chowder or Nursey to lose them in a crowd, but no one matched up to what Eric expected. And he wasn’t after some prince charming.

No, his fantasies revolved around two pro-hockey players and them asking Eric to be in a relationship with both of them. He was screwed without being screwed. But at least his college work and captaincy of the hockey team weren’t suffering. Much.

So he weighed Suzanne’s question and picked up the apple filling for the pie he was working on. They were baking in preparation for the family getting together on Christmas Day. There was no good enough answer, because however he spoke would lead to more questions.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

“Have you tried speed dating?” Suzanne asked, as if she hadn’t suggested the most absurd thing ever.

Eric kept his face neutral. “I’m kinda busy with studying and hockey to be dating.”

“But...” Suzanne’s hands twisted in a dishcloth. “You deserve to have a little bit of… fun, sweetie.”

And never before had Eric considered his momma would try to be a wingman for him. He sighed and started spooning the apples into the dish. “I’m happy, Momma. Really.”

Something in his words seemed to make Suzanne flinch. She stepped closer to Eric and asked in a low voice, “Son, are you… are you gay?”

Color rose to Eric’s cheeks and his heart started thumping a million miles a second in his chest. His throat felt dry and tight. Sweat prickled his forehead.

“I-” Eric gulped. “I need to get this pie in.”

Eric started working in the lattice top as he was watched closely.

“It’s okay if you are,” Suzanne said quietly, just loud enough for Eric to hear.

All Eric could do was nod.

***

Christmas Eve found Eric taking the first Greyhound that would get him to Cambridge, Massachusetts. He was unsure when he would be speaking with Aunt Judy or Coach again, but it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

***

“Come in,” Lardo greeted, throwing the door wide, anxious look in her eyes. Eric hardly noticed the apartment he was walking in to. All he knew was that the place Shitty had been calling home while at Harvard was a million times better than staying back at Madison to have everyone but his momma berate him for something he couldn’t choose.

Shitty wasn’t anywhere, but then there was movement from the hallway outside the apartment and some muffled cursing. Eric turned to see Shitty carrying several stacked grocery bags.

“Let me help,” Eric said, dumping his case and duffel. He dashed over to Shitty and took one of the bags.

“Thanks, Bits.” Shitty and Eric headed into the apartment and the kitchen. Eric caught a peek inside the bag he had carried and saw a host of baking supplies.

Lardo saw him peeking and squeezed Eric’s shoulder. “We figured some pie would be good?”

Eric gave Lardo and Shitty a thankful smile. Before he did anything else, Eric pulled out his cell and sent a message to Jack and Kent:

_~ Eric: Made it to Shitty’s._

He tucked his cell away, and then set about helping Shitty and Lardo with the groceries, slowly taking off his parka, mittens, hat, scarf and extra hoodie— _It’s cold in Massachusetts, guys—_ as he worked. Once everything was away, Jack and Kent had both messaged back, Kent with a picture of Kit on his and Jack’s laps, and both with the offer for a call later.

Later that evening, Lardo and Shitty left Eric in the kitchen so he could work his magic, door closed. He had his laptop balanced on top of a toaster and had Jack and Kent talking to him as he worked.

Kent laughed. “So Swoops-”

“Troy,” Jack interjected.

“Dressed up as Santa Claus for the kids last night, and ended up being mauled by about five of them?” Kent looked to Jack for confirmation, hand stroking between Kit’s ears.

“Did you get photos? Video? Has the internet seen this?” Eric asked, rolling his pie crust out. He tried hard not to think about how he’d been doing this almost a day ago, with his momma, and everything seeming like it was going to be okay. Except it wasn’t going to be, because most of his family seemed intent on disowning him.

He tried not to think about that as Jack and Kent talked to him about their Christmas. Jack, at least, knew what had happened—Shitty had offered to talk to Jack about it immediately after agreeing that Eric could crash at his place for the rest of break—and Kenny was following his lead in not bringing it up.

“What kind of pie are you baking?” Jack eventually asked, once they were done with the tale of Swoops getting pummeled by under tens.

“Pecan and maple… your favorite.” Eric looked over to his laptop and looked down the camera, giving Jack a coy smile.

Jack’s eyes went a little wider, his pupils a little bigger, but so did Kent’s beside him. And Eric swallowed nervously, because there was something more behind those gazes. Time and experience were hinting at what, but Eric refused to believe. Even if it would be every dream of his come true—bar having his own TV show about baking—because why would something good happen to him now?

_How could they possibly be interested in little ol’ me?_

***

“Come to Las Vegas, after graduation,” Jack said.

Eric looked at the camera on his laptop. He’d been talking to everyone in the Haus, Shitty, Lardo, Jack and Kent about what to do once he was done with college and had his degree. Everyone had been offering their two cents, even after saying they wouldn’t, even after saying it was all for Eric to decide.

But Eric had quickly found that without his family to go back to—though he was still in contact with his momma—his original after college plans had been thrown into disarray. There was no going back to Madison and living rent free while trying to find something that could be considered the start of a career and he couldn’t just go and intern somewhere that didn’t pay.

He had been thinking about taking his vlog and baking videos to the next level, getting a Patreon… but that wasn’t exactly going to help him with a steady paycheck, not for some time.

 _But what could I possibly do in Vegas?_ Eric pondered.

“You can stay with Kent and me, until you figure things out. We’d be happy to have you, Bits.” Jack’s eyes had that soft look to them that they got when he was talking to Eric.

“I don’t even have a job or an internship,” Eric pointed out.

“We’ll help you find something.”

“I’m not completely useless.” Eric crossed his arms.

“But please think about it.”

***

The Aces played the Providence Falconers at the Falconers’ home ice when it was Eric’s graduation. They were working on getting to the Stanley Cup Final. Jack and Kent attended Eric’s graduation despite all of this, handling selfies and autographs, the Samwell hockey team, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, Holster and Eric.

Eric flew back with the two of them to Las Vegas. A few weeks later, the Aces won the Stanley Cup. Again.

And Eric was rinkside for the whole thing.

***

“He’s old enough to drink, right?” Troy asked as they crowded in around a table set off in the VIP area that Kent had dragged the whole team to.

Eric rolled his eyes and half-shouted over the music, “I literally just graduated college!”

“Sorry man, but, you know...” Troy trailed off.

“That I’m short? Yes, I am well aware that I’m short.”

Before Eric could berate Troy further, Kent and Jack were slotting in beside Eric, setting themselves either side of them. Close enough that their heat was bleeding into him, making him sweat just that bit more.

They were all dressed in suits, Eric in one Kent had sprung for him a few days ago, almost like he knew that the Cup would be theirs. _Oh gawd_ , Eric thought as a couple of Aces players brought the cup in and put it on top of the table they were sat at.

But as shots were ordered and the party began, Eric couldn’t escape the fact that Jack and Kent kept touching him. They would find any excuse to put a hand on Eric’s neck or the back of his hands, or his thighs. Sweet little touches that Eric couldn’t ignore—didn’t want to ignore as his mind felt freer and freer with each shot.

“Do you want to head home?” Jack asked, breath ghosting across Eric’s ear.

Eric had been struck by lightning, but this time it was a different kind. Lighting up his soul and body. Making him want more than he ever had before.

“Yes.”

The three of them made their excuses and headed to Kent’s place, away from the lights and the Cup. Troy had scored the winning goal, so the Cup was going to be with him for the night.

***

Eric woke up, dressed in his boxers and one of Jack’s t-shirts, spooned on either side by his favorite hockey players. Jack and Kent were asleep and similarly dressed. Nothing, it appeared had happened, but Eric tried to remember if anything had _almost_ happened.

He remembered agreeing to coming home, but with the amount of booze in his system being what it was the night before, he couldn’t remember much more. Though he recalled Jack helping him get ready for bed.

Jack’s arm tightened around his waist and Eric recalled that the small touches had continued on the way home. The cuddle pile in Kent and Jack’s bed was Eric’s clearest sign that what the three of them had was more than just a deep friendship.

He could lay there for Kent and Jack to wake up… _Or I can start on breakfast and make sure we’re ready for this conversation._ Eric gently lifted Jack’s arm from his waist and slowly wiggled into a sitting position at the head of the bed and then climbed over Kent.

Getting a robe, Eric watched from the corner of his eye, as Kent and Jack slowly edged into each other’s arms. Instead of envy, Eric felt a happy warmth at the sight, because he had just been a part of that. He still wasn’t completely sure what they wanted, but Eric hoped.

And hope deserved the freshest, most tasty breakfast quiche.

***

“Oh my god, what is that wonderful smell?!” Kent exclaimed as he stepped into the kitchen, pushing a hand through his messy blond locks. “Is that your world famous breakfast quiche? Do I finally get to have some?” Kent winked at Eric.

A shiver ran down Eric’s spine, but he passed Kent a mug of fresh coffee and tried not to think of any double meanings with Kent’s words. Eric finished squeezing fresh orange juice to go with breakfast and put three evenly filled glasses on the breakfast bar as Kent sat at it.

“I couldn’t deny you any longer.”

Kent flashed Eric a smile.

“Chrisse, Eric, is that…?” Jack asked, yawning as he padded into the kitchen.

“My world famous breakfast quiche.”

Jack’s face lit up at the news and he gladly accepted a mug of coffee from Eric.

Once the quiche was done and served, Eric waited until all three of them were eating before finally steeling himself to ask what he needed to ask.

“I need to ask you something.” Eric put down his fork and ran a finger down his glass of orange juice.

Jack and Kent shared a knowing look.

“Are the two of you, uh, interested in me?” Eric asked.

Kent reached out for Jack and put his right hand on top of Jack’s left. They shared another glance and then turned to Eric.

Jack gave Eric a soft smile. “We are.”

“Okay… Good… I’m interested in the two of you.”

“Finally!” Kent threw his free hand up in the air.

Jack and Eric stared at Kent, with Jack mouthing “really” at Kent.

“What? We’ve been trying to get here for like two years.” Kent leaned across the breakfast bar and closed his free hand on top of Eric’s right. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long.”

The touch was warm and made Eric look at the two men beside him. He knew Kent shared his love of Beyoncé. He knew Jack was willing to help him try every new recipe he found. He knew Jack had sent him a care package during the worst days of his final year at school as he tried to finish his dissertation. He knew Kent had sent him a new set of gloves, hat and scarf after he lost them on the road to a Samwell away game.

Jack and Kent talked to him all the time.

Eric couldn’t quite believe he’d missed what all of this had been adding up to, but his low key envy had kept him second guessing what was right in front of him.

“I’m still going to find my own job. And for now, I’m sleeping in the guest room,” Eric stated.

“Okay, we can work with that. We’ll court you now that this is all out there,” Kent grinned.

Eric snorted. It made him sound like some southern bell who had a whole estate up for grabs instead of some Georgian boy with elite pie making skills.

“But you’ll still bake pies, right?” Jack asked, voice faux serious.

“So long as you okay this with your nutritionist, sure.” Eric picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. _I can do this. I can. Yes. Yeah. Totally got this._

***

“Wait, so you, Jack and Kent?” Shitty asked. He was topless again as he talked to Eric over Skype.

“Yeah, though they’re courting me at the moment.”

“Mm, polyamory. Makes sense. This is called a triad. I’ll send you some links to some sites...” Shitty stayed on the call, but started typing away at his laptop and then the text chat started pinging with links.

“Thanks.” Eric resisted the urge to go and look up all of the sites while he was still talking to Shitty.

“So what else are you calling me about? You said you had two pieces of news?”

Eric gave Shitty a big smile. “I got a job. I’m junior community manager for the Aces. Got it all under my own steam.”

Shitty beamed at Eric and high-fived the screen. “That’s fucking swawesome!”

***

Settling into his new role saw Eric going to every Ace’s game once the pre-season started. Saw him spending time with the team at practice. On photo shoots. At trips to local hospitals and community centers. Fundraisers. Everything awesome thing the Las Vegas Aces were up to—Eric was there. Including a few unofficial moments that helped to further humanize and popularize the team.

Jack and Kent were true to their word, courting Eric as each week passed by. Dates. Small gestures. Some large gestures—like his own car. And somehow managing to avoid the spotlight.

After a rough home game against the Arizona Coyotes, Eric, Jack and Kent returned home and started in on their new post-game ritual for when the Aces lost. Eric put a kettle on the stove and got out mugs for tea. Jack dug out the remains of the latest pie that Eric had baked. Kent got out the big warm polar fleece blanket that they kept in an ottoman in the living room. They changed into their pjs.

Mugs of steaming chamomile on the coffee table. Pecan and maple syrup pie on Eric’s lap as he sat in the middle, forks waiting—the three of them cuddled up on the couch, with a re-run of _Great British Bake Off_ on the TV.

But once the empty pie dish was on the coffee table and mugs of chamomile empty, Eric didn’t feel like heading off to the guest room and the bed there. He turned to Jack and met his gaze.

“Jack,” Eric whispered.

And without further prompting, Jack pressed his lips to Eric’s. Sparks threatened to engulf Eric, leaving him a sizzling mess on the floor. And then Kent reached a hand and gently pulled Eric’s face towards him and kissed him with the same gentle press Jack had.

Kent pulled back and asked, “Is this okay?”

Eric looked from Kent to Jack to Kent again. “Yes,” he said. “So much yes.”

The two men descended on Eric, mouths nipping at either side of his neck, finding his mouth only to go back to soft mouthing or sweet nips at his throat. They messily made out on the sofa, bodies slowly becoming a tangle under the blanket.

Eric straddled Jack’s lap, with Kent leaning over both of them from behind, a part of him was in awe of how he had ended up there. When Jack had gotten back together with Kent, Eric believed he had lost Jack, but actually it was the opposite.

“You’re thinking too much,” Kent moaned into Eric’s ear. “That’s Zimms’ thing. Don’t… you start doing it.”

Eric sighed. “Not thinking, much.”

“Mmm, can we touch you?” Jack asked.

“Gonna… burn up if you don’t.” Eric rolled his hips experimentally on Jack’s lap and felt a small measure of satisfaction at the hardness he found there.

“Chrisse, he’s trying to kill us,” Jack moaned, hands flying to Eric’s butt cheeks and holding on.

The pajamas the three of them had on left little to the imagination. Kent bent over Eric and kissed Jack, grinding himself against the small of Eric’s back. Eric rocked between Jack and Kent, drawing low moans and whimpers depending on how much pressure he applied. His body was quickly heating up, despite the air-con. No one thought to take any of this to the bedroom.

Piece by piece they stripped, until their heated skin was exposed. Eager mouths traced Eric’s features and explored his mouth. Two hands went to his hard and aching cock, working him to completion, his pleasure setting both Jack and Kent to find their own.

“That was,” Eric said dazedly, after, “mmm, yes.” He couldn’t fit words together, but he kissed Jack and Kent to show them how happy he was.

“Mmm, yes,” Kent agreed, kissing the top of Eric’s head.

Jack mumbled in agreement and chastely kissed Eric’s cheek.

Wrung out and sleepy, the three of them carefully left the couch and went to the bathroom to clean up. Finally they tumbled into bed together, Eric snuggled between Jack and Kent.

Eric didn’t sleep in the guest room again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on Pillowfort at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://www.pillowfort.io/dreamsfromthebunker), Dreamwidth at [hit_the_books](https://hit-the-books.dreamwidth.org/), Tumblr at [hitthebooksposts](https://hitthebooksposts.tumblr.com/).


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